


Hell to the Liars

by Tonight_At_Noon



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Brief Mention of Domestic Violence (not graphic), Established Relationship, F/M, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Violence, POV Alternating, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 09:43:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13187448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tonight_At_Noon/pseuds/Tonight_At_Noon
Summary: Mystic Falls is not the quiet Virginian town perfectly suited for the supernatural. It is a metropolis located in an unknown American territory in which good and evil are in constant battle.Caroline Forbes is a superhero. One of the best.Klaus Mikaelson is a villain. Considered by many to be the worst.But love is strange, and it binds these two together as one superhero makes it his personal mission to destroy the Original.





	Hell to the Liars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missingstars89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingstars89/gifts).



> This is an odd one. But I came up with so many different ideas, and this is the story that would not let me rest. 
> 
> As always with these sorts of things, in which your words are a gift to someone else, there is a certain amount of pressure to write well. Maybe even to write perfectly. Because of this pressure (that maybe only I feel) there is also a certain pre-guilt involved stemming from the fear that I have not written a good story. 
> 
> But I'm getting ahead of myself. 
> 
> Here's to you, Isabelle! I really hope you enjoy the world I have created, and I hope you can laugh knowing that I had originally planned on this story being no more than five-thousand words long. 
> 
> Happy holidays, and a happy new year!

  _Here's to the things you love/_

_Here's to those you find in love_

**Hell to the Liars | London Grammar**

*** * ***

**Mystic Falls Superhero and Villain Database**

  * **Miss Mystic: Hero**



**Abilities -**

  1. Can freeze a single object of any size in time
  2. Invisibility
  3. Can fly 


  * **The Original: Villain**



**Abilities -**

  1. Can generate fire via his hands
  2. Super strength


  * **Retro: Hero**



**Abilities -**

  1. Can conjure a person's most painful memory



 

*** * ***

**Prologue | Gotcha!**

*** * ***

“It’s over, Original!” Alaric says, watching as the man who has gloried in making his life—everyone’s life in Mystic Falls—a living hell writhe in pain on the ground. His muscles strain against the black of his super suit. “It’s over.”

“Never, Retro!” shouts the Original. Eyes blazing, he clamps his hands over his ears.

Alaric walks over to the weakened villain and crouches by his kneeling body. “You can’t get rid of this memory. It won’t leave you be until I tell it to. Face it. It’s over, Niklaus,” he snarls.

The Original’s hands drop from his head in shock. He twitches as he glares at Alaric, the painful memory Retro brought to the surface still doing its best to incapacitate him.

Despite everyone in the villain/hero community knowing the Original’s true identity, it is a low blow to call him by his true name during battle. But Alaric had won. Formalities be damned. The man deserves no respect, least of all from him.

“Do it, then,” Niklaus fumes. “Kill me.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” Retro twirls a finger around one of the Original’s bronzed curls. It bounces when he releases it, and Niklaus flinches. Alaric can barely suppress a smile. “I’m not going to kill you. Why would I do that?”

“What do you want from me?”

“Look at this way,” Alaric says. “I’m the first person to ever capture the feared Original. The most villainous villain to ever darken Mystic Falls’ doorstep. It would be a disservice to my city if I simply killed you right here and now.”

“What do you want from me?” Niklaus repeats, the venom-soaked words flying from his mouth.

Retro swipes at a drop of saliva on his cheek. “You’re going to give me the answers I need,” he says. “They’re in there, even if you have them locked away.”

“Never.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Focusing, Retro delves into the Original’s mind. He feels Niklaus trying to push him out, but he remains, listening. “I can hear her screams, Niklaus. I can smell her blood. And little Rebekah—I can hear her too.”

“Enough!” Original bellows, head dropping in true defeat. “Enough, please.”

Alaric pulls himself from Niklaus’ mind. “Begging from the Original? Oh, happy day.” Pulling a syringe from one of his suit’s many hiding spots, he opens the cap and presses the needle against Niklaus’ neck. “Say goodnight, Original,” he says, forcing the sharp object into the Original’s flesh and bearing down on the plunger.

The Original slumps in Retro’s arms.

*** * ***

**Part One | A Bad Man Loves a Woman | Five Hours Earlier**

*** * ***

She is going to ruin him. She has already, he thinks. Perhaps it happened a long time ago, long before he realised it, when he first laid eyes on her as she walked past him on the street, neither aware of the secrets hiding behind the other’s polite smile. Or maybe this is a new development. Maybe it finally happened last night as she arched atop him, his name dripping like sweet nectar from her lips. Either way, he is royally fucked. He should never have let it get this far; if the world implodes by sundown, he knows the blame will fall on them.

Beside him, she is still asleep. Naked, her porcelain skin stands out against the steel grey colour of his bedsheets. Her sparkling blue eyes move behind their lids. She is dreaming of something. Saving the world, he assumes. That’s the sort of thing superheroes dream, isn’t it? Klaus likes to think she is flying through the air in her mind each night, battling one of her foes and once again protecting the citizens of Mystic Falls from danger.

Does he ever creep in there? Selfishly, he hopes he doesn’t. If only because he is afraid of which role her mind would cast him in. He cannot be both the doting lover and the villain. He is one or the other; there is no melding of the two. It has been that way since the beginning, and shall remain that way until the end.

He remembers when this whole thing started. What was it, two months ago? Almost three, he supposes, glancing at the calendar on his wall and staring at the approaching spring months.

It was a cold night in Mystic Falls. A rare autumnal snow covered the ground, hiding the slick ice beneath. They had met by accident—or Fate; she always said it was Fate, with a capital F—travelling the dark, abandoned roads of Main Street, the hub of the city. Coming from England, he felt more at home in the chilled air, and he had let his guard down to enjoy the white dust falling from the sky.

That was his mistake, of course.

 _Never relax, Niklaus. Always be aware of your surroundings. Always be ready to strike at a moment’s notice_.

His father’s teachings had snuck away from him that night, and he soon found himself facing a masked figure wielding a knife. The metal object glinted in the overhead light from the street lamps. Before he could react, the faceless man lunged forward and sliced his ribs in an upward motion, knocking him back. The knife clattered to the ground as Klaus’s hands burned with flames. The snow around him melted, but the vigilante was already gone.

Klaus threw the flame regardless. It shot out, hitting nothing but the open air. Weakened by the effort and the blood loss, he shouted after his assailant, collapsing backwards as a wave of dizziness captured him.

Footfalls neared him from behind. He startled, fighting to sit up. Klaus readied his hands.

“It’s okay,” a voice said. “I’m here to help.”

And then she was there, crouching by his side, blanching at the sight of pink snow.

Caroline Forbes. _Miss Mystic_. She looked different when out of her suit, but no less threatening. Her blond hair, usually tied up when he saw her during battle, brushed her pink-clad shoulders, and she wore a stripe of berry red on her lips. It looked as though she had bitten into a ripe cherry, and he recalled wondering in his weakened state if, should he kiss her, she would taste sweet.

“What happened?” she asked. She was on her knees, inspecting the rip in his black shirt.

“It was an ambush. Some kid trying to be a hero,” he growled. Looking her up and down, he grouped his eyebrows over his nose. Pain ran up his side, and he panted out his next words, “Why are you helping me?”

“I’m an actual hero. It’s my job,” she said. Without bothering to warn him, she ripped his shirt over his head and threw it to the side, pausing momentarily to inspect the wound. Her face soured. Clearly she was not a fan of gore. “That looks gross.”

He ignored her comment about the gash. “I know you’re a hero,” he said, teeth clenched, “but I’m the bad guy. We’re enemies.”

Miss Mystic rolled her eyes. Bringing her hand up, she prodded the outer perimeter of the slice, dropping her hand after he hissed. “I get that, believe me. But you’re also wearing civilian clothes, and you know as well as I. . . .”

She broke off, her focus solely on his bleeding side.

He did know as well as her, though. It was law, written into the Superhero/Villain Act of 1978. _Each hero and villain shall act and be treated as a civilian when wearing plain clothes_. Outside of his suit, he was Niklaus Mikaelson, business mogul and playboy. Just as the woman doing her best to tape up his wound with a first aid kit she magically conjured from her bag was Caroline Forbes, bakery owner and general kind person. She wasn’t Miss Mystic, most sought after superhero in Mystic Falls; and he wasn’t the Original, the most feared, degraded villain of them all.

“What would you have done if I hadn’t shown up to save you?” she asked when she had finished cleaning him up. She stood, offering him a hand.

He reached out for her, grunting as he got to his feet. Neither let go when he had found his footing. Her hand was cool from the snow. His was blazingly hot from the anger coursing inside of him.

“Isn’t it obvious,” he said, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. He felt her tremble, and he smirked briefly at her response.

“Not to me,” she said, yanking her hand away.

Leaning close, their breaths swirling like smoke, entwining between them, Klaus said, “I would have died.”

“Of course,” she said, backing away with her hands held up. She was not happy with his response. “Sorry for ruining what would have been an excellent death. See you on the battlefield, Original.”

She turned to go, and he didn’t know why—he still doesn’t know _why_ —but he called to her. “Caroline,” he said, heart quickening in his chest. He needed her to turn around. He needed her to come back. “Caroline, wait. Please.”

He never begged.

 _Begging is for children and dogs_. More of his father’s wisdom to which he had, for the most part, adhered.

But here he was, _begging_.

Caroline Forbes turned around slowly, and his heart plummeted to his stomach. Snow danced around her, and if it hadn’t been for the unamused expression on her ruddy-cheeked face, he would have likened her to an angel.

“Thank you,” he said after a long pause.

She nodded. “You’re welcome, Klaus.”

That was it. That was the moment she ruined him. The second she said his name, he was gone. There was no escape.

They moved quick after their meeting in the snow. He started coming by her bakery, and within a week they were finding each other in dark alleyways before disappearing to one of their apartments.

“Are you sure?” he had asked the first time, half clothed and aching with want.

She had kissed him. An open-mouthed, heavy kiss. “Yes,” she breathed, undoing the button of his slacks.

He does not understand why she is with him. Even in secret their relationship makes no sense. They work for opposite sides. She should be disgusted by him, as he sometimes is with himself. And he should hate her; she fights against his cause daily.

Klaus looks out at the open space of his bedroom. He lives in a penthouse suite. It is decorated minimally in blacks, greys, and whites. The only pop of colour in the entire apartment is a soft blue—the same blue as her super suit—pillow Caroline bought him for the white leather sofa that sits in his lounge. She owns a small apartment a few blocks away. A tenth floor, two-bedroom place she shares with her best friend, another Super.

He enjoys the nights they spend at her home. Her space is cozy. Lived-in. Unlike his apartment, which screams of work addiction. But there are not many nights Bonnie Bennet, the Green Witch, is not there, and they are more often forced to retreat to his cold penthouse.

Next to him, Caroline stirs, pulling him from his memories. Her eyes crack open, spilling blue over his sheets, and she smiles delicately, drowsily. Rubbing at her sleep-filled eyes, Caroline Forbes stretches, yawns, and rolls closer to him. Her hair looks a mess. It sticks out to one side in a great mat, but she has never looked more beautiful.

Stretching out an arm, she traces the tips of her callused fingers over the thin scar running up his side. He shivers at her touch.

Was she dreaming of that night, then? Were his thoughts creeping inside her head, manipulating her unconscious mind?

“Do you think this scar will fade?” she asks. Her voice comes out groggy, and she coughs to clear her throat.

Klaus catches her fingers. He brings them to his mouth, kissing each one individually. Lacing their fingers together, resting the back of her hand against his chest, he shrugs. “I don’t know. I hope it doesn’t.”

She sits up and lays her head on his shoulder. Her hair tickles his untrimmed chin. She is bare, but she doesn’t bother covering herself with the sheet. “Why do you not want it to fade?”

“It’s a reminder of that night,” he admits carefully.

Caroline rotates her head. Their eyes meet. She smiles at him warmly, filling him to the brim with aggravating happiness.

How does she expect him to commit evil deeds when she looks at him like that?

He tilts his neck to kiss her. Gets one brush of his lips against hers—

—She breaks away, gasping and looking around him at the blinking alarm clock by his bed.

“Shit,” she breathes, leaping off of the bed, leaving him with his mouth slightly parted. He follows her crazed movements as she scrambles to find her clothes. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m supposed to be at a meeting in ten minutes!”

“At HQ?” he questions, amused.

She throws him a dirty look, only one leg inside her red-coloured trousers. She wears her white blouse around her neck as a scarf. “Of course it’s at HQ. Alaric’s been talking about this for over two weeks. If I’m late”—

—"If you’re late,” Klaus says, leaving the bed and taking Caroline’s shoulders. They instantly relax beneath his touch, and he lifts half of his mouth in a flashing half-smile. “Retro will get over it. Eventually.”

Caroline sinks into his grasp and brings her arms around his waist. Her mouth against his ear, she says, “He’s worried about the uptick in villain attacks. Says we need to reformulate our attack plans.”

Klaus frowns, pulling away from Caroline. He sits down on the bed again, and Caroline quietly carries on, locating her neon pink bra underneath a black chair near the floor-to-ceiling window at the far end of the room. She puts it on as she drags her super suit (a blue, tight bodysuit with white accents at the collar and arm cuffs—it makes her look like an angel) from beneath the same chair. 

 _An uptick in villain attacks_.

He has laid low these past few weeks. Kept more quiet than he has done since he got his first suit made years and years ago, but he has noticed the increase. From his office chair in the Mikaelson Building way up on the twenty-second floor, he sees all. First, it was Shapeshifter. Silas, once a friend of Klaus’s, tore the city apart two weeks ago. Miss Mystic was called to the scene, forced away from her shop, and was badly injured before she managed to subdue the man who could change his face.

That night, Klaus snuck into her room and patched her bleeding graze before he tossed aside her suit in order to help her forget the brutal fight.

Silas started a chain reaction. It seems all of Mystic Falls’ villains are out for blood, and while they feel no guilt at murdering innocent people, the heroes of the city follow the law. When they procure a villain, they send them to a detention facility beneath Superhero Alliance HQ, a building in the centre of Main Street, invisible to those who do not know it is there. They only kill when there is no other option. 

The last villain to attack the city was She-Wolf. Hayley Marshall. Two dead as a result of her wolfish capabilities.

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

Klaus blinks. Caroline stands in front of him, fully dressed in yesterday’s outfit, concern sprinkled in her eyes.

He knows she is asking about Hayley. She-Wolf and the Original go way back.

“No,” he says, not wanting Caroline to worry about his loyalties.

“Liar,” she accuses.

“Fine,” he acquiesces. “But they aren’t fond thoughts. They’re bitter and angry.”

A flicker of a smile pulls the corners of Caroline’s mouth. She leans up and pecks his lips. Too soon, she breaks away. “She’s not going to hurt anyone else for a little while,” Caroline assures him. “I have to go. Be good until I get back.”

“You’ll come here tonight, then?”

She nods, halfway to the bedroom door. “I’ve got my key.”

Klaus had almost forgotten he gifted her the spare key a few days ago after he found her waiting outside his apartment following a long day at work. When did he become the type of man to give a girl a key to his apartment?

“Goodbye ’til then,” he says, a strange mixture of emotions, fear and trepidation and, most infuriatingly, _contentment_ , swirling in his belly.

Hearing the front door close, Klaus walks back to the bed and grabs his phone to check his emails. He skims through the junk, not bothering to read any of them properly, his mind too focused on Caroline and what plan Retro, the bastard, might be concocting to fix the villain problem in Mystic Falls.

Retro is head of the Superhero Alliance. Has been since his predecessor, William "Strongman" Tanner, met his demise in a car accident five years ago. Understandably, Klaus cannot stand the man. They have fought against each other several times over the years, and although Retro has never captured him, he has come extremely close. He plays dirty. Klaus wouldn't be surprised to learn Alaric Saltzman is chummy with the villain community. How else would he learn so many foul tricks. 

He has brought up his concerns twice with Caroline, but she has brushed them under the rug. 

 _He's good at his job_ is her response.  _Besides, you're the evil one, remember?_

Sometimes he doesn't remember. Sometimes, when Caroline's body is flush with his, both of them panting and still shivering in post-orgasmic bliss, he will forget who he is. He will get it into his thick head that he is some normal bloke with a regular job who managed to snag a wonderful girl to the chagrin of the rest of the boy's in town. 

Those moments don't last long. Soon enough he is bombarded by all of the crimes he has committed. All of the reasons Caroline Forbes should leave him by the wayside.

*** * ***

**Part Two | A Woman Loves a Bad Man**

*** * ***

If her mother were alive, she would be happy for Caroline. Somehow, she would look past all of the flaws in her daughter’s rationalisation over her twisted relationship and be happy. Simply because Caroline was happy.

On the other hand, if her father were alive, he would be devastated. Wrathful. He would demand Caroline wise up and break off her fling with the Original before the villain killed her. Then he would go out and kill the Original himself.

Neither are alive, though. Both lie in the Mystic Falls’ Cemetery, far apart from one another. Were she able to bring one back, she would choose her mom. No contest. She needs her mother at this time in her life more than she has ever needed her before. Things are so confusing for Caroline at the moment. She fights against the bad guys in her super suit, flies above them both physically and metaphorically, and yet she spends her nights sleeping in the arms of the worst super villain to take up residence in the city.

Once, the idea of the Original made her sick. Hearing his name would cause acidic bile to trudge up her throat until her whole body burned.

He, in her mind, was the epitome of a villain. He took pleasure in taking what he wanted from those less fortunate than him, and grinned his dreadful grin when they slunk away, cradling their broken bones. 

It makes no sense to her why she went to him after the masked vigilante slashed his side. Why she hardly felt any guilt that night he first took her to bed. Why, still, she looks into his eyes and sees no true wickedness there. 

 _He's a killer_ she would tell herself in the beginning. 

 _So are you_ a loud, booming voice would respond.

“Alaric’s gone a bit mad, don’t you think?”

Caroline jolts, waking from her daydream to find herself sitting inside the conference room at Superhero Alliance HQ. Fellow superheroes trickle out, all in their civilian clothes and chatting merrily to one another, but Bonnie remains beside her at the long, glass table. 

“Care?” Bonnie says, nudging Caroline’s shoulder with her own. “You still with me?”

Snapping fully out of it, Caroline grins at her friend. “Yeah, of course,” she insists.

Bonnie’s green eyes wander up and down her face skeptically. “Do you think he’s gone a bit off his rocker? Alaric, that is.”

Truthfully, Caroline could barely focus on the meeting. She was too busy agonising over her decision to essentially lie down with the devil. She has had this internal argument with herself each time she enters through the HQ rotating front door ever since she woke up, naked, stuck with sweat and other things to Niklaus Mikaelson. Her would-be hell.

One thing Alaric said during the meeting swims in her head, however.

 _We_ must _get all of them. Until they are all locked in our dungeons, until we have each and every one of them, down the Original himself, we cannot rest._

Madness. And not only because Alaric chose to call out her bedfellow by name.

“He’s enthusiastic,” Caroline says, repeatedly flexing her toes in her black ankle boots. A nervous habit. “I don’t know if I’d call him mad.”

“You don’t think he’s _too_ enthusiastic? When have any of us ever gotten close to capturing the Original?”  
  
Bonnie raises a fair point. In the years since the Original began his reign of terror, not a single hero has managed to get him. All of them have wanted to at some point, including her. Following his methodical and lengthy destruction of a beloved lawyer who worked for the supers, she spent a lot of her time trying to pick up on his patterns in order to pounce on him when he least expected it.

After all, the _Mystic Falls Courier_ named him as their “Baddest Baddy” two years in a row. The title automatically put him at Number One on the heroes Most Wanted List. Mystic Falls hates him. He is rich and cruel, and that is enough for them to view him as the devil incarnate.

She knows, even if none of her friends do, that they will never get their claws into the Original’s suit. He is too cunning.

“Speaking of,” Bonnie says, giving Caroline no room for a response, “we haven’t seen Mr. Original in a couple of months. That’s weird.”

“Is it?” Caroline asks, her voice sounding oddly high pitched to her own ears. She feels herself flushing. “It’s not that weird.”

“No, it is. He must be cooking something big,” Bonnie reasons. “There’s no point otherwise. It’s not like he’s hung up his cape.”

“He doesn’t have a cape.”

“That’s not the point, Caroline. Hey, are you okay?” Bonnie jabs the back of her hand against Caroline’s forehead. “You’re sweating.”

Inside her back pocket, a buzzing sensation starts, tingling her flesh. She stands abruptly. Bonnie’s hand falls.

“I’m fine,” the blond says, heading for the door. All of the other heroes have disappeared. “It’s just . . . hot in here. I’ve got a call incoming. I’ll see you later.”

Bonnie waves to her as she departs the conference room. Immediately, she pulls her phone from her pocket and sucks in a deep breath. She glances at her glowing screen.

 _K_. The letter burns her eyes.

Klaus.

Speak of the devil.

Caroline’s heart flutters, falling slowly from her chest to her stomach. Its wings brush her insides. She quickens her pace, searching for a space to hide.

“Hello?” she breathes when she is far from prying eyes in an empty office. The room is carpeted and full of boxes.

“Salmon,” he says in lieu of a greeting.

“Is that some codeword?”

“Do you like it?”

“As a codeword? Not really. What’s the backstory? Why do we need a codeword in the first place?”

“No, no,” Klaus says, and she can just imagine his frustrated face. “Do you like to eat salmon? I was thinking of cooking us up some maple glazed salmon with brown rice for dinner.”

The word _domestic_ flashes repeatedly in Caroline’s head. She ignores it.

“I’m not opposed to salmon,” she discloses.

“Excellent. There’s some here in the market that looks rather nice,” he says. Through the phone, she hears the creaky sound of styrofoam on ice. “Talk to you later, love.”

“Wait,” she says, sitting against the low window ledge in the room, “did you call me just to ask what I wanted for dinner?”

Again, _domestic_! 

“Well, I didn’t want to cook anything you didn’t like,” he explains.

“Right, right.” Caroline bangs her head on the window. Her eyes fall shut. “Thank you, Klaus. I’ll see you when I get back from the bakery.”

“See you then.”

He hangs up first. He always does.

God, what is she doing?

Has she woken up in some alternate universe where she and Klaus are in some happy, normal relationship?

This is dangerous. She knew it would be from the instant it started, but the risks seem to be piling up on top of them.

Bonnie was right. The Original had been missing for a little while. Probably a couple of months. And she is the reason. She must be.

She needs some air. Tucking her phone away, Caroline heads for the door and opens it wide, almost falling backwards at the sight of Alaric. He is casually leaning against the opposite wall, arms folded.

 _Shit_. How long has he been there? Did he hear her say Klaus’s name?

 _Shit, shit, shit_.

“Caroline,” he greets, his shadowy cheeks moving into a sly smile. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ve got it all figured out.”

Caroline, comically, gulps. “What, uh, what have you got figured out?”

That sickening grin grows. His eyes darken. If she didn’t know any better, she would call his expression sinister. “I know how I’m going to get the Original. Meet me in the training room in thirty minutes. Call Elena and tell her to cover for you at the bakery today. This will definitely suck up your time.”

And with that, Retro pushes off the wall and disappears down the hallway. She follows his movements as he turns into the conference room. The moment his left foot disappears through that doorway, Caroline’s phone is out once more. With shaky fingers, she dials Klaus’s number, her breaths coming out stuttered. Everything around her swims.

“Are you all right?” he says upon answering the call. He never has been very good with hellos.

“No. It's about Alaric. Meet me at your place. Now. I only have about half an hour.”

She doesn’t offer him a chance to ask any more questions. Hanging up, Caroline returns to the empty office and hurriedly takes off her plain clothes, revealing the pale blue super suit beneath. She forces the window open. A blast of cold air hurries inside the room. Miss Mystic focuses, turning herself invisible. She stands on the window’s ledge and takes off, forcing herself to remain calm.

It is a seamless journey through the chilled clouds. Caroline lands a block away from Klaus’s building, switching off her invisibility and running the rest of the way. Bare trees line the streets, each decorated with strings of Christmas lights. As she nears the front of the apartment building, she hears a desperate cry—“ _Enough_!”—and is instantly in Superhero Mode. She rushes past the last couple of skyscrapers, skidding to a halt when she spots the source of the noise.

Retro cradles Klaus’s limp body in his arms. A crowd of people gathers in the street, each one holding a phone up to the scene.

“No,” she whispers, hurrying past the civilians, not caring that she is outing herself as an Original sympathiser. “No!”

Alaric turns to face her. Klaus’s body flails with the movement; his loose, dark golden curls jump. Retro does not look surprised to see her. How did he get here so fast? 

“Miss Mystic! Look, I got him all dressed up for you," he hollers, his voice booming loud enough for the invasive bystanders to hear. "Caught him just as he was returning home with some . . . what was it, salmon? It was a good selection. Sorry you’ll have to miss it. You'll be pleased to know he put up a good fight, though. Well, until I completely subdued him.”

This is the end. 

 _I got him all dressed up for you_. Outside of his suit, Klaus is just another citizen of Mystic Falls. Alaric must have gone up to his apartment and forced him to put on his all-black super suit in order to lawfully attack and then brought him down to make a show of it.

Caroline is so incredibly confused. Has Retro known of their involvement the whole time? Is this his way of punishing her?

“What’s happening?” she asks, ignoring the nearing crowd.

Retro’s eyes roll behind his blood red mask. “Isn’t it clear? Come on, Mystic. You’re supposed to be the smart one.” He pauses, turning to face the amateur filmmakers. “This man killed my wife. It’s taken me this long, but I finally figured it out. And now it’s time for him to pay.”

There is a resounding gasp from the audience.

Alaric's wife did die seven years ago, around the time Klaus registered himself as a villain. Caroline remembers reading about it in the paper. Isobel Saltzman was found lying face down in a body of water two miles outside of the city limits. Her neck was bruised and broken. The heroes had no jurisdiction, and Alaric has been saying that because he was not allowed to aid in the investigation, his wife's killer was never found. 

But Klaus? Impossible.

Caroline almost swallows her tongue. “What?” she shouts, shock piercing her voice. “What evidence do you have to support that claim?”

“Evidence enough,” Retro says. He drops Klaus’s body to the ground. It thuds, cracks, but Caroline remains still as Retro approaches her. “I’ll show you when you wake up.”

“When I wake up. . . ?”

Caroline trails off, but Retro’s words soon make sense. He has a small tube in his hand. A syringe full of a clear liquid. Caroline is not fast enough. Her bones are too heavy. Retro has her by the waist, assuring his fans that no harm will come to her.

“The Original has poisoned her mind,” he says. “I can make her better.”

Struggling against his strong grip, Caroline flinches when she feels a sharp sting in her neck. “Please, Alaric,” she squeaks. She stares up at the grey sky. Her breaths escape her lungs as rivulets of smoke. “Please don’t do this.”

“Too late,” he whispers, holding down the plunger.

The last thing Caroline feels before her vision starts fading is a cool rush seeping through her veins.

*** * ***

**Part Three | And They Ruled the World**

*** * ***

“Stop lying to me!”

Retro’s shrill yell threatens to burst Klaus’s eardrum. Coming up beside the tied-down villain, Alaric slams his fist on the metal table top to further his point.

Klaus gets it. He could be dead at any moment should Alaric decide he has had enough of Klaus’s untruths.

“I’m not lying,” Klaus grits for the third time since he awoke in the pristine, chromatic interrogation room at Superhero Alliance HQ. His jaw is sore from Alaric’s fist; his arm is bent, surely broken. But he refuses to show any pain. He stares at himself in the two-way mirror, watching as saliva flies from Retro’s mouth.

“You knew her!” Retro, his red and black super suit on, accuses. Hot breath rubs against Klaus’s cheek. “You told me you knew her!”

“We all knew her! All of us. Ask any villain in this God-forsaken city and they’ll give you the same answer.”

Isobel Saltzman. Klaus has not thought of the raven-haired woman in nearly a decade. When he first registered, he would go to the local villain hangout. A bar in the rough part of the city. Villains of all sorts would be there all hours of the day and night, drinking heavily and discussing their plans to take over Mystic Falls. Izzy would come in from time to time, complaining about her husband and his do-gooder ways. She was raised by a villain before he got killed in battle. Clearly, his villainy rubbed off on his daughter even if she pretended it hadn't. 

Night after night, she would take home another bad guy. He never got a chance with her, but he definitely wanted her. They all did. 

Poor Alaric. Klaus almost feels sorry for him.

Screwing up his arm again, Retro’s fist collides with Klaus’s nose. Blood gushes upon impact and he cannot stop the pathetic whimper as it leaks from his throat.

Alaric shakes out his bruised hand. He runs it through his hair, which looks as though it is being held up by invisible strings.

“I have Caroline, you know,” he says indifferently.

Spitting blood, Klaus’s attention sharpens. “What?” he growls.

“Oh, yeah,” Alaric says, nodding. He goes to the two-way glass. Their eyes lock in the mirror. “She’s in the room over. Tried to save you, sweet thing. How did you manage to get her to sleep with you? I’ve been trying to fuck her since we met, but she just wouldn’t give it up. I guess she needed someone with daddy issues worse than her own, though.”

Klaus pulls at his restraints, a special rope used by the heroes that blocks all its wearers powers cutting through the black material of his suit. “Let her go!” he orders. He rocks in the metal chair, trying in vain to get himself free. “Let her _GO_!”

Folding his arms, Alaric smiles wickedly. “Oh, I’ll let her go. But you have to tell me about that night first.”

“I’ve already told you I didn’t kill your wife! She loved the bad guys, Retro. One of them probably got to her.”

Fury appears behind Alaric’s eyes. He knocks, hard, against the mirror and turns around. “How many times do I have to remind you that I could kill you and your precious girlfriend like this,” he says, snapping his fingers, “before you start giving me some real answers.”

“I’ll start giving you some real answers when you start asking less ridiculous questions,” he responds, hoping he is able to conceal the panic that has risen in his chest since Caroline’s name was mentioned. This man is on a mission. He is out for blood, _revenge_ , and Klaus can tell he will not give up until he gets the response he wants. “Besides, I know you won’t hurt Caroline. She’s your best superhero. Mystic Falls would turn to shit without her.”

This is all so fucked up. He should have left Caroline well enough alone instead of doing all he could to wear down her walls. If something happens to her, there is no way it isn't his fault. 

“Oh, but you love her, Niklaus, even if you don’t realise it yet,” Alaric says, pacing the room. “I don’t care if she’s the one capable of ridding the whole of Mystic Falls of your kind if killing her means you’ll tell me the truth.” Coming to a halt, Alaric’s eyes brighten suddenly. He returns to Klaus’s side and sits on the desk, looking down at the half-defeated villain. “But you know, I have other ways of making you talk, Niklaus. Why don't I bring Caroline into the room and we can all take a trip down memory lane together, and she can see what disgusting creature bred the monster she has fallen into bed with."

Alaric exits the room. The thick metal door bangs against the outside wall as he throws it open, and it clicks shut a second later, leaving Klaus alone with his galloping thoughts. 

This is surely the end. The  _Mystic Falls Courier_ will have to find a new super villain to name their number one baddy.

Gritting his teeth against the searing pain in his forearms and wrists, Klaus tries to free himself from the damned spellbound rope. He feels heat pool underneath the scratchy rope and knows he has broken through his skin. But he needs to get free, if only to rescue Caroline. 

 _Oh, but you love her, Niklaus_. 

He doesn't. He  _can't_. It goes against his very nature. He has spent his entire adult life avoiding attachment. He became a villain in the hopes it would sever all of his ties to humanity. 

His father said it best.  _Love makes you weak, Niklaus_.  _Don't you dare fall into its trap_. 

He's been good. So, so good at keeping himself busy with one-night stands and brief flings. This is no fling, though. Even he can't deny that. For Christ's sake, he bought a fucking salmon to cook her for dinner. 

As he inwardly bemoans his obvious fondness for Miss Mystic, the door to the interrogation room creaks open and Alaric steps inside, dragging a bound and gagged Caroline behind him. Klaus's face blossoms in pure shock when he catches sight of her. Rope is tied around her mouth, cutting harshly into the sides of her mouth. He sees slivers of red on her chin. Her suit is dirtied and stained brown with dried blood. There are star-shaped bruises on her cheek. 

"What have you done to her?" His broken nose, blocked now with clotted blood, makes his voice sound strange. Klaus jerks in the chair, nauseating anger poisoning his veins. "You bastard, she's on your side! What'll all your super friends say when they find out what you've done to her?" 

Ignoring Klaus's outburst, Alaric shoves Caroline into the chair opposite him and rests a gloved hand on her shoulder. She shrinks away at his touch, and Klaus would be on the table, his hands wrapped around Retro's throat, if he could just get the fucking ropes off. 

"Nobody will ask questions, Niklaus. Your girlfriend here is in just as much hot water as you," Alaric says, patting her shoulder. "She might not have killed an innocent woman, but she has spent the last two and a half months fucking the scummiest villain to walk our city's streets every which way."

Caroline's eyes harden. She is watching Klaus, and he feels her blazing stare singeing his skin through the tatters of his suit as he focuses on Retro's wild eyes. She wants to get her hands on Alaric as much as he does. 

"How long have you known?" 

Alaric's mouth stretches. "How long? Jesus. Since the beginning. Who the fuck do you think gave you that scar?" He points to the spot where the masked vigilante slashed his side. 

"You?" Klaus asks.

"Oh, yeah. Me," Alaric brags. "I wanted to stick around and finish the job, but Miss Mystic, darling that she is, decided she needed to save your life. I hid in the shadows, watching you two together. You made me want to vomit even then. I couldn't very well attack you in plain clothes again knowing that you'd always have someone there to rescue you, so I came up with this lovely plan. And what do you think of it? It's pretty good, if I don't say so myself. 'Two lovers in fair Verona' and all that shit. They'll write stories about you two, but it doesn't matter to me who comes out the hero in this scenario because you'll both be dead. And you know what they say about dead men."

 _A villain never thinks of himself as the bad guy. He only thinks of himself as right_. Klaus has heard this saying multiple times throughout his life, but had never payed much attention to it. 

He is the villain. He knows he is a bad guy, and not only because countless heroes have told him as much during their battles. He is happy to be on the wrong side if it means getting what he wants faster because he isn't so bent on following the law and keeping his fights clean. 

Alaric, on the other hand. . . . 

The way he is frothing at the mouth like some rabid animal, monologueing like an inexperienced villain. He thinks he is right. He thinks the world will look upon him with favour if he can accomplish what he set out to do: avenge his wife's death by slaughtering her killer and the woman to whom he has unexpectedly, infuriatingly grown attached. 

Klaus searches out Caroline's eyes. She does not look frightened anymore, only angry. Good. He doesn't want her to be afraid. Nodding his head, he hopes to convey to her so many things in that single, jerky movement. 

 _It's going to be okay_.

 _We're going to get out of this alive_.

 _I love you_.

Damn Retro. Damn his father. He loves Caroline Forbes. Somehow, she worked every single one of his well-built, sturdy walls down and crept inside of his long-forgotten heart. 

Caroline nods back at him, her head much steadier. 

"Who's ready to get this party started." Alaric claps his hands together. He stands behind Caroline, his hands once again on her shoulders. "I think this is going to be fun. For me, not for you, Niklaus. Now, I'll stop torturing you with the memory if you fess up, okay? Can we agree on that? You admit to me that you murdered my innocent wife, and I get out of your head."

"Fuck you, Retro," Klaus seethes. He doesn't want Caroline to see him weakened by his worst memory. 

Alaric raises a single hand and points it at Klaus's head. "I'll take that as a yes," he says. The man's fingers wave. His eyes drop closed.

Soon there is someone inside of his head, searching for hidden memories.

 _Get out_! he pleads, but Alaric is already there.

Closing his eyes, Klaus is helpless to stop the memory from playing. He hears his mother crying. Sees her lying on the kitchen floor, his father standing above her.

“Get out!” He says it out loud this time. It’s no use.

His father reaches down for the front of her shirt and pulls her halfway up. Her frightened eyes catch his.

His father’s arm twists back—

—"Wait!" Klaus shouts. His voice crashes through the room. The connection is shattered. His eyes fly open, meeting Alaric's across the table. Sweat falling into his mouth, he says again, "Wait. I remember something."

Alaric's eyes brighten. His nostrils flair. "Tell me," he orders. "Tell me  _now_!"

"The last time I saw your wife," he says, puffing out his breaths, "she was leaving the bar with Damon Salvatore."

"The Bloodsucker?" Alaric questions. He doesn't look convinced. "I don't believe you."

"Well, that's a damn shame, Retro, because I'm telling you the truth. She was flirting with him all night, dragging him out of the bar by his leather jacket. I never saw her in there again, and two days later she was found dead," Klaus explains harshly.

He is telling the truth, whether Alaric wants to believe him or not. Damon Salvatore, the Bloodsucker, is feared by most of Mystic Falls. He was revered as the city's worst villain before Klaus snatched his title. The blue-eyed, pale-faced man is ruthless unlike any villain Klaus has ever met. He would not be shocked to find out the Bloodsucker kills outside of his super suit. 

"Her blood wasn't drained," Alaric argues, his face reddening. 

"He probably didn't want people to suspect him. He strikes me as the kind of fellow who's evil all hours of the day, not just when he's skipping about in his suit."

"You're lying!" Alaric screeches, rushing over to Klaus. He takes the curly-haired man by the remains of his suit's collar and readies his fist. 

Klaus prepares for the punch, but it never comes. 

"Let him go, Alaric!" 

Retro pauses. He and Klaus turn their heads to the side to find Caroline out of her restraints. Her mouth is bleeding. Her wrists are rubbed raw. But she is free, and her hands are held out towards Alaric. 

"How?" he fumes. 

Caroline's eyebrow lifts in a  _don't you know_ sort of way. Watching her, Klaus's heart stutters in his chest. "Never underestimate me, Alaric Saltzman."

"That's not an answer."

"No, I guess not," she concedes. "Let's see. . .it all started when we received our first shipment of the Villain Rope. I thought, should it ever fall into the wrong hands, it might be a good idea for me to learn how to get free of it. Every man-made thing has its weak spots. Even this stuff," she says, holding up the bloodied rope that had been around her mouth. 

Letting go of Klaus, Alaric turns to fully face Caroline. "He doesn't really care about you. You'll wind up like Isobel if you're not careful, Caroline."

"He didn't kill your wife," she says confidently, her arms still outstretched. 

Alaric splutters a maniacal laugh. "You don't really believe that bullshit story about Damon, do you?" 

"I do," she says. Her head is raised. Her words are steady. She is telling the truth. 

Klaus could melt in relief. 

"Even if you think he didn't kill Isobel," Alaric says, "he's still a villain, Caroline. He's a  _killer_."

"Yeah, and so are we. What's the difference between us?" she asks.

"We kill bad guys," Alaric fumes. "We kill those who deserve it."

Caroline tilts her head to one side. "That's a weak argument, Alaric."

It happens fast. Alaric's hands crunch into fists. His face seizes in boiling anger. Klaus, knowing he is about to pounce, tries one last time to sever the ropes binding his hands behind his back. But there is no point. As soon as Retro lifts a foot, Caroline twitches her wrists and Alaric comes to a halt, frozen in time through Caroline's power. 

Dropping her arms, Caroline speeds over to Klaus. Her nimble fingers fight the rope until he is entirely free. Pouncing from the chair, Klaus wraps his good arm around Caroline and holds her close. Her hands go around his neck. She grips the ends of his hair. 

They stay like that, breathing heavily, until Caroline pulls away. Her blue eyes are filled with worry. She lets go of his hair and gently touches his nose. He winces. 

"I'm okay," he says quickly. His hand cups her face. He strums her blood-crusted cheek. The cuts at the corners of her mouth look bad. "But you. . . ."

She nods. "I'm okay too," she insists. "I'll heal."

He would kiss her if he wasn't afraid of hurting them both. Instead, he pulls her in close again. 

*** * ***

**Part Four | Together**

*** * ***

  _He's a villain, Caroline. He's a_ killer.

 _Yeah, and so are we_. 

Caroline plays those words over and over in her mind as she lies next to Klaus's sleeping form the night after Retro's attack. She sits in his bed, her head against the soft headboard, watching him breathe. His chest rises and falls, and each movement is like a calming wave. Thankfully, his nose is mended. Stefan Salvatore, Bloodsucker's hero brother, healed their wounds after taking Alaric to his own special cell. There was mistrust in his eyes as he touched Klaus's swollen nose and arm, but he didn't ask any questions. None of her friends did. Most were too concerned about the fact that their boss had turned out to be a psychopath, and the others knew well enough to keep their mouths shut. 

Except Bonnie. She ambushed Caroline in the toilet and would not stop bugging Caroline for answers until the blond had no choice but to spill all of the sordid details about her illicit affair with the Original.

 _So that's why he's been off the radar these last few weeks_ she had said.  _You're turning him to the good side_.

She wasn't. Isn't. Klaus will always be a villain. She has no desire to change that about him. When it comes down to it, what she said to Alaric is the truth. There is no grey area when it comes to killing people. They are not better than the bad guys simply because they kill in the name of good. She has just as much blood on her hands as the man beside her. 

As she continues gazing down at her villainous counterpart, he stirs and slowly comes awake. His eyelids flutter, and for a moment, a single moment, he looks as young and innocent as a babe. Then his startlingly oceanic eyes are on her. There is a hardness to them. He stares, blinking away sleep, and her heart clashes violently into her ribcage. Extending her hand, she brushes hair from his forehead, stroking at the indented lines. 

"How are you feeling?" she asks, moving her fingers to his mouth. She strokes his lips, and he presses them together, kissing the pads of her fingers.

Getting to his elbows, he lifts himself into a sitting position. He takes her hand. "Tired. It's been a long day."

"That it has," she says, revelling in the feel of Klaus's thumb on her knuckles. 

"Could you not sleep?"

There is so much concern for her in those words. "It's only midnight. There's plenty of time to get some rest."

A dark, thrilling glimmer races over his eyes. "I could help make you a little more tired, if you like," he suggests. 

"You could," Caroline says, excitement rising. "But I want to ask you something first."

"It's not going to kill the mood, is it?" 

"It could," she discloses. 

Klaus sighs. "Ask away."

"Okay." Caroline bites her lip, unsure of herself. This question might be crossing a line. "That memory Alaric pulled from you . . . what, um, what was it?"

The speed with which Klaus's face tumbles is enough to give Caroline whiplash. He looks down at their entwined hands. His thumb stops. So does his breathing.

God, she's an idiot. Of course he doesn't want to talk about it. 

"Sorry," she says, reddening out of embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Klaus. I shouldn't have asked."

It takes him a minute (that to Caroline feels like an eternity), but he eventually speaks. "No, don't apologise. I've just never shared this story with anyone willingly. I don't even know where to begin."

"You really don't have to say anything."

"I should, though. To you if no one else," he says, lifting his eyes. Hints of trepidation drip from his eyelashes.

Caroline waits patiently for him to speak. The only sounds in the apartment come from the refrigerator to the left of Klaus's room. 

"My dad was a bad man," he says. "He was always beating up on my mum and me. Especially my mum, though. I think the drinking didn't help; it definitely aggravated his anger issues. One night, when I was nineteen, home from uni for the summer, Dad was on a bender. Mum did something. Said something. It pissed Dad off, and he went mad."

Klaus pauses. His tongue moves behind his teeth as he searches for the next words. 

Beside him, Caroline is completely still. 

"He killed her right in front of me," he says. "And I was helpless to stop it."

It was worse than Caroline could have imagined. Nineteen-year-old Niklaus Mikaelson watching as his drunken mess of a father claimed the life of the woman who birthed and raised him. She knew he had a tragic backstory. Everyone talked about how his father died in prison, and that his death pushed Klaus to move overseas to America from London. But this. . . .

She is clueless as to what to say next. 

Thankfully, Klaus saves her from having to come up with something.

"Look," he says, fiddling with a loose strand of thread along the edge of the duvet, "let's not dwell on it. Tonight, I want to forget all that's happened. I want to sink into you and just let go of everything. Does that sound good to you?" 

Caroline doesn't answer him with words. There is no time for them. They complicate things. Muddy the water. They tell Caroline things she does not want to hear. So, she responds with a kiss. The kind of kiss powerful enough to wipe away all thoughts from both of their minds. The kind of kiss that makes her forget how to speak at all. 

He groans into her open mouth, tickling her with his stubble. He always does that. It's an animalistic noise from deep in his throat, and it vibrates through Caroline, rattling her bones and setting her skin on fire. She is pink all around. And wet. And throbbing with ardent want. It is her turn to groan when Klaus places a hand beneath the duvet and finds the bare flesh of her upper thigh. She shakes. Trembles like a frightened pup.

But she wants more—always wants more, and Klaus is more than willing to provide for her. He smiles a devilish smile into her mouth and drags his cool fingers up and up until it hits the only barrier blocking his path. He rubs her there, over the fabric, and she pants, her forehead pressed against Klaus's. Her eyes are slits, but she can see how perfectly his pupils have overtaken his irises. 

Oh, he is the devil indeed. And she is an angel caught between the light and the dark. What a wonderful place to be.

Soon enough, there are no more blockades. They are entirely bare, she on top of him, gathering his silky hardness in her palm, biting her lip when he his breath whistles through his teeth. She kneels, her legs either side of his hips, and glides him along her slit.

Another whistle. 

Shutting down her lungs, Caroline lowers herself over him. They exhale in harmony as her hands automatically reach out to clutch his smooth chest. Together, they start to move.

*** * ***

"So, how do you feel about Stefan taking over Retro's position?" 

Caroline, a tiredness lapping at her eyes, rolls onto her stomach and rests her chin on his ribs. The night has fully descended upon Mystic Falls now. Distant crashes, evidence of a battle, can be heard outside the floor-to-ceiling window. 

"I'm happy for him. He deserves the job after all he's gone through," Caroline says. "He's always known his brother was a scumbag, but this brings it to a whole new level."

Klaus frowns. "Yeah, how does that work, exactly? They're brothers, but one turned out golden and the other dipped into a life of sin? It sounds like a fairytale."

As much as she can in her position, Caroline shrugs. "I don't know," she reveals, turning her head so her cheek pressed against Klaus's torso. She can hear his heart running. Feel it pulsing. "I guess it's just their nature."

"I love you, you know," Klaus says following a relaxed silence. His heart rate picks up speed.

She smiles, kissing his skin. "I know. I love you too."

"Good," he says, looking up at the ceiling. "Good."

It is good. Unexpected, but good. 

With a clap of Klaus's hands, the lights go out, bathing the lovers in blackness. Outside, the fight between good and evil rages on. 

*** * ***

_Hell to the liars/_

_Here's to you and me_

 


End file.
